Taking Karre

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Starving,” Jordinne inserted.

  “Stinking,” Bratene added.

  “And, according to Vidar, with nothing to fight for,” Karre mused.

  “Women bring civility to men.” Synna had managed to rethread her needle and continued to sew.

  “They need it with Sorceress Magda so close. We have never seen such a formidable foe in my lifetime, or my mother’s.” Jordinne put her work down and stretched her arms over her head. “I will gladly celebrate the day she is no more.”

  “I think I can get to Magda,” Karre announced, her hand shaking. Bratene and Jordinne gasped in unison and Synna dropped her sewing on the floor. When no one spoke, she continued, “I’ve been listening to the men, hearing their stories of how she comes up from the ground. So, it can be concluded that they live in caves. I have a skill for blending in. It will be easier if I can get my equipment from off-world, but if you all—”

  “No,” Jordinne shook her head, interrupting. “Vidar would never allow it. The men would never allow it.”

  “We will never allow it.” Synna slowly reached to the floor to pick up her sewing.

  “Just consider for a moment,” Karre said. “I’ve been to some of the most advanced planes in the parallel universes and to some of the most primitive. I don’t want to live in fear of Magda and I don’t want to risk…” Karre paused.

  I don’t want to risk losing my husband, my new life, to some crazy cannibal queen. I don’t want to be taken by another husband should Vidar fall in battle.

  A sharp pain radiated in her chest and she pressed her hand between her breasts to try to stop it.

  “We don’t doubt your skills, my lady, but—” Synna began, her tone placating.

  “Then help me,” Karre pleaded. “Tell me everything you know about her encampment. Surely your men talk. If I can go there, if I can gain some kind of intelligence that will help us conquer—”

  “And what if you are captured? What happens to Vidar when he loses a wife who has left him without children?” Synna demanded.

  Karre eyed the woman, surprised at the passion in her normally mild voice. “I haven’t given children much thought.”

  What else could she say? Children? She had barely given herself time to adjust to the idea of not running away, of staying as a wife.

  “Well, perhaps you should give it thought,” Synna quipped.

  “Children here? With Magda at our door?” Karre studied her hands, twining and untwining her fingers. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen too many children around the fortress.

  “What would you have us do?” Jordinne inquired. “March alongside the men into battle? Wield a sword and pray for an honorable death?”

  “I have no wish to fight in battle,” Bratene said. “I am content with my place.”

  “Neither do I,” Karre admitted. “I’m not talking about fighting in combat. But, if I could find how Divinity brought the other brides here, I know I could find a way to help. I could gather information. I could tell the knights were to find the sorceress.”

  The women stared at her, their expressions blank.

  “You don’t know where the Divinity portal is, do you?” Karre sighed. If she could get to her stash, she would have a better chance of infiltrating the sorceress’ encampment. “It’s not in my nature to do nothing.”

  “Here,” Synna thrust a piece of cloth at her. “Busy your hands. Then you will be doing something.”

  Chapter Nine

  Because right now, in this moment, Karre had no idea who she was supposed to be.

  Strategizing and talking and thinking about fighting the Caniba sorceress was a lot different than actually finding the means to implement her plan. Since Karre’s father had been abducted, she’d run toward danger, faced unknown planes, traveled to other dimensions until there were times she could barely remember her own name let alone her own land. She had learned how to set aside her fears, and facing a Caniba queen, once she’d decided to do so, wasn’t something she would back away from. When Karre invented a role, she became that person—the maid, the dancer, the noblewoman, the pedestrian, the baker. Whatever the job called for, that was who she was—with or without the damned memory implanter.

  But now? What role was Lady Karre, wife of Sir Vidar of Spearhead?

  She hadn’t lied to Vidar when she said she didn’t want to run anymore. At that moment, it had been the truth. As she looked at his firelight-caressed face, she had wanted to sit on that bed forever, staring at him, breathing him in. However, now as she looked over the main hall filled with knights, hearing the coarse banter as she sat alone at the head table, she wasn’t so sure she wanted this to be her everyday normal. Because right now, in this moment, Karre had no idea who she was supposed to be.

  Vidar sent word that he rode out with some of the men. A strange feeling overwhelmed her, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. Apathy? Regret? Frustration? Confusion? Resolution? Desperation? Enclosure?

  How could she wait and do nothing? The maids refused to discuss any further plan of action. So was this it? Was this her life? Would she sit at her throne-like place above the main hall, staring out at the many knightly faces, watching them eat, hearing them talk, worrying about the Caniba? Day after day?

  “Worrying about Vidar?” she whispered, frowning into her lap. No one heard the soft question and she was left without an answer.

  How had she become so invested? How could she let her hard shell slip? How had he wormed his way into her emotions?

  Karre found it hard to breathe and reached to grab the hard-tasting liquor. She gulped it down, feeling it burn its way to her stomach. Then, as realization dawned on her, she choked, coughing it back up so that it sprayed over her trencher of food, onto the table and floor.

  “My lady?” Jordinne’s voice penetrated the fog that settled over Karre’s senses. The hall became quiet, or perhaps she couldn’t hear it over the hard beat of her heart. A hand pulled at her sleeve, forcing her around. Jordinne stared at her in concern. “My lady?”

  “I think I love my husband,” Karre whispered, unable to work her mind out of the daze. She pulled her arm from Jordinne’s hold and stumbled away from the table.

  —

  “Karre?” Vidar’s heart hammered in his chest as he rushed toward her bedchamber. “My lady, are you well? What’s happened? Karre, are you in here?”

  Strange reports of her stumbling from the main hall had been carried to him on his way to scout the marshlands. Jordinne assured him that his wife had not been poisoned, but after riding hard to get to her, he had to see her for himself. An unseen hand squeezed his heart in his chest at the thought of losing her. He didn’t care to analyze the feeling too closely.

  As he walked into her bedchamber, he noted, not for the first time, the décor Karre had added to the room. It looked like nothing he had ever seen. The warrior in him wanted to retreat, away from the lush environment into the familiar world of stone and steel. The man in him wanted to lie on the bed and let the thoughts slip from his mind as his wife attended him in lavish comfort.

  Seeing her resting on the bed, he slowed. Karre lay on her stomach, her back rising in even breath as she slept. Her face was turned to him, shadowed by the way her shoulder blocked the firelight. He smiled, his eyes moving down over her naked back. Silken covers molded over her ass and hips, outlining the shape of her legs.

  He leaned against the bed and brushed her hair from her face. Then, not wanting to disturb such a beautiful sight, he made a move to leave. Karre grabbed his wrist, stopping him from turning away. She opened her sleepy eyes, blinking heavily.

  “You’re not the only light sleeper.” Her words were thick and a little husky. “I thought you had to leave.”

  Reaching for her, he touched her forehead, feeling it for heat. “I got word that you were ill.”

  “Ill?” She didn’t move from her stomach. “No. Not ill.”

  “Then?”

  “Just tired.” As if
to prove her point, she stifled a yawn and straightened in a stiff stretch. “Has something happened? Why are you back?”

  “Are you so eager to see me gone?” A small smile curled on his lips as he teased her.

  “I’m glad to see you safe.” Finally she turned, keeping her body hidden beneath the covers as she lay on her side.

  The smile turned into a wide grin. “I am glad to see you well.”

  “I’m glad to see you here.” She reached for his tunic, pulling him toward her. Her eyes fixed on his lips as she brought him into her kiss. Warmth radiated from sleep-flushed skin. She kept the kiss brief, only slightly parting her lips.

  “I am glad to see you naked.” He chuckled softly and slid his hand over her covered hip. Her lashes dipped low over her eyes, shading them. Her breathing deepened. “And I am glad to hear that you have grown feelings for me.”

  She stiffened under his hand. “W-what? Who, ah, where did you get that impression? I didn’t say… What?”

  “Is it not true? Did you not say you loved me?”

  “Jordinne,” she whispered in realization. “She heard me.” She grimaced slightly. “She told you.”

  He’d not dared to fully believe the maid’s words until that moment, when he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. A strange feeling unfurled in his chest, warm, new, uncertain. Everything about his training as a warrior spoke against such feelings. Men had to be hard and in complete control. Friendship was expected in a marriage. Caring was encouraged. But love? How did he even know what that meant? How would he even know if he felt it? The idea was as foreign as peace. Sure, they knew about the concept but never expected to see it implemented in their lifetimes.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her breathing deepening. “I have grown feelings for you.”

  The words pleased him. How could they not? Strange emotions filtered through him but he wasn’t equipped to decipher their meaning. He needed more time to think and analyze. He refused to lie to her. He respected her too much for that. “You are a fine wife, my lady.”

  Karre’s lashes lowered over her eyes and for a moment she didn’t move. Then, giving him a small smile, she said, “Come to bed. It’s late.”

  “Yea.” He kissed her temple. “Let me hang my weapons. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  —

  You are a fine wife, my lady.

  Karre watched Vidar leave, forcing all emotions from her expression. When he disappeared out of the door, she turned in the bed and faced the wall. A fine wife? She told him about her feelings and he called her a fine wife? She wasn’t sure if she should cry or punch him in the nose. No one liked their feelings to go unrequited, but she couldn’t force him to love her.

  But a fine wife? Fine? Surely he could have managed a much better compliment. Then again, he was Starian. It was quite possible he couldn’t manage a better compliment.

  She took a shaky breath and then another, trying to exhale the pain building in her chest. Closing her eyes, she focused on keeping her breathing even, pretending to sleep. Vidar came back into the room. She heard him moving behind her, the whisper of his clothes as he undressed, the stirring of the fire as he tended the flames.

  The mattress moved under his weight as he climbed into bed. She rocked gently before he settled next to her. His hand slid along her hip before coming to rest. He merely held her, didn’t try to wake her with kisses or insistent desires. Within moments, he slept. Karre opened her eyes to peek at him. He lay naked beside her, as perfect in form as any finely carved statue. Her heart pounded, as if begging him to wake up and look at her, to say something other than she made a fine wife. He didn’t stir and she knew deep sleep would not find her again that night.

  —

  Light filtered through the narrow slit, casting the bedchamber in a sleepy light. Karre yawned, not feeling rested. She adjusted her limbs on the bed, stretching along Vidar’s side. Her movement roused him and he blinked heavily, suppressing a yawn.

  “Good morn, lady wife,” he said, instantly pulling her close. His arms felt so good and protective. For a moment she forgot why her heart ached so badly. “I much prefer waking up next to you than surrounded by soldiers in the marsh encampment. You are much prettier.” He paused, brushing his lips against her temple. “And you smell better, much sweeter.”

  Surprised at the gentleness in him, she waited to see what he would do next.

  “You do not speak.” Vidar placed his knuckle under her chin and turned her face toward his. “Did you not rest well? I tried not to disturb you.”

  “Mm,” she moaned softly, snuggling closer to him. “It’s too early to speak.”

  He glanced at the window. “But it is daylight.”

  “Early daylight,” she corrected.

  “I am not tired.” His hand glided down her back, pressing her stomach against his. Since they’d slept naked, there was nothing to hinder their meeting flesh. The unmistakable interest of his arousal formed along her hip. His voice lowered into a husky murmur. “And yet I cannot seem to force myself out of bed to tend the morn exercise.”

  “Exercise,” she purred, running her hand up his chest. Everything about him stirred her passions—his look, his feel, his smell. She detected the whisper of his breath against her cheek, tickling her flesh. His eyes pierced her with their intensity. The exhaustion drained from her limbs, replaced by the restless energy of desire.

  Vidar kissed her briefly before drawing his mouth along her jaw to her neck. She wanted him so badly, always wanted him. Strong hands ran along her body, along her hip to the outside of her thigh. Fingers skated over her knee before finding the path between her legs that would lead them to her center heat. Her sex welcomed his touch with a flood of cream.

  His lips moved over the heavy pulse in her neck. Taking his time, he pressed measured kisses along her collarbone to her shoulder. He angled her onto her back to give his mouth better access to her breasts. A tremble worked over her needy flesh. Every nerve focused on where they touched. Soft noises left her, joining his longer moans.

  Vidar wrapped his lips around a taut nipple, sucking gently. He massaged the other breast, mimicking the movements of his circling tongue with his fingers. Karre caressed everywhere she could reach, following the defined contours of his muscles. Sensations overwhelmed her, drowning out all thoughts.

  When he came above her, parting her legs with his, his mouth joined her once more. This time the kiss deepened until their tongues waged a war in their mouths. With the intensity of pleasure exploding between them, they both were equally victorious. Her lungs burned for air and she had to pull away. Lips parted, she panted against his mouth.

  Vidar brought his body to hers. The tease of his cock slid over her pussy, pressing into the wet hold of her slit. There was a gentleness in him that she hadn’t seen before as he delved forward, filling her with his strength. They rocked together in perfect unison, breathing each other in with every thrust.

  His eyes held hers in their grasp as effectively as his body pinned her to the bed. Tension built, so sweet and pure it made her heart ache with the intensity of its promise. As her body climaxed, racked with pleasure, she wished she could hold on to the moment and never let it go.

  Vidar jerked, stopping movement as he came inside her. Grinning, he rolled to his side. His arms fell limp in complete relaxation. “A man could die happily in your arms, my lady.”

  It wasn’t “I love you” but she decided it would do for now. Smiling sleepily, she answered, “Death is not something I’d ask of you, Sir Vidar.”

  —

  Vidar couldn’t stop grinning as he sauntered through the courtyard. Everything seemed more pleasing than normal—the sky was a wonderful shade of blue, the air was sweet, exercise enjoyable, his fortress proud and strong, his people smiling despite the threat lurking at their gate. He couldn’t name what it was that had changed. Maybe the sun shone with a different light. Maybe the cook used a new herb in the porridge and it altered his perspective. Or mayb
e it had something to do with the invisible thread he felt connecting him to his wife.

  Invisible thread? It made no logical sense and yet there the thought was.

  He passed through the fortress entrance into the hall. Servants wiped the empty tabletops, finishing up their cleaning of the morn meal.

  “Sir Vidar, I must speak with you.”

  Vidar stopped walking as he heard his name. Seeing the maid Synna approaching him, he nodded at her, encouraging her to speak.

  “It is about Lady Karre,” the servant said.

  His smile faltered. He glanced around. Everyone else was far enough away the conversation wouldn’t be overheard. “What about my lady?”

  Synna opened her mouth and hesitated, as if rethinking her decision to come to him. “You know what happened to Sir Fredrick after he infiltrated Magda’s camp.”

  “He is a hero,” Vidar placed a steady hand on her arm. “He was very brave to try. None doubt that.”

  The woman glanced to the floor. “He is locked away in a room lined with mattresses to keep him from bashing his own skull against the stone walls, forever changed by what that witch did to him. I would not see your wife face the same hero’s fate.”

  “My wife?” Vidar stiffened, feeling as if he’d been kicked. He pushed Synna aside, ready to surge past her. “Has she been taken?”

  “Hold.” Synna grabbed his wrist before he could run out of the fortress. “She is yet unharmed. I believe she still sleeps. But I feel I must warn you of what she plans. It is my duty.”

  Vidar crossed his arms over his chest. The pleasure of his day drained into a hard knot of stress in his stomach.

  “She thinks she can get to the sorceress by infiltrating the Caniba’s world.” Synna grabbed his crossed arms and squeezed so hard her nails dug into his flesh. He barely noticed the sting it caused. “Please, Sir Vidar, stop her. Do not let her face the madness. Do not let her end up like my husband. Death is better than such insanity.”